Who are You

 Melbourne O’Day doesn’t like people. He goes out of his way to avoid them. It angers him to deal with them, but he must work to pay his bills. Melbourne is the manager of a hamburger joint, and employee turnover is tremendous. Because of his nasty disposition, everyone he hires quits a few weeks later. However, because the hamburgers taste delicious, the constant flow of new employees doesn’t affect business. As a result, the spot on the wall for employee of the month is always vacant.

The only woman in his shallow life was his mother. People say she was even nastier and more detestable than Melbourne. When she was rushed to the hospital, Melbourne waited until his shift ended to see her. When he arrived, the doctor apologized and said she had died of heart failure. Melbourne said, “It figures. Send her to the funeral home and tell them to do what they must do and send me the bill.” He returned to work the next day as if nothing had happened.

Melbourne has never had a girlfriend, either. “I have no use for love.” Something he’ll often declare if someone asks him the question. “Women are just people, and I don’t like people. Women ask a lot of questions. They seem to need to know everything!  And they’re expensive too! They like to go out to eat and always want to shop. They like jewelry—preferably gold and diamonds. So no, I can’t stand all that’s involved with women. I’m happier by myself.”

And so he is. Because he doesn’t like people, Melbourne doesn’t own a TV, computer, or iPhone. So instead, he reads nature books about animals and listens to classical music. Instrumentals only. He often says that if he were rich, he would build a house in the middle of a jungle and live with the animals. So people wonder if Melbourne died and went to hell, would he be mad because he’s not alone there?

Melbourne has spent the day barking at his workers and is about to leave. He smiles while remembering how he made that young girl cry and throw her paper hat on the grill, setting it on fire. “Ahh, one less person to deal with.” The idea pleases him so much that he actually hums a little tune as he locks up for the night.

Melbourne gets into his old Volkswagon beetle and inserts the key into the ignition when a person suddenly materializes in the passenger seat, seemingly out of nowhere. Unfazed, Melbourne looks at the stranger. 

“Who are you?”

“I’m you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not. Nature wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. So get out.”

The stranger’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops. He can’t believe what he’s just heard!

“I don’t believe this!” I materialize from thin air, look like you, a carbon copy, and you tell me to get out of your car!?!” the stranger huffs.

“That’s right. Get out.”

“ Aren’t you afraid and full of wonder as to who I am? Why I’m here? Don’t you think this whole thing is strange and needs answers?”

“No. All I do know is that you are in my car. That makes you another person, and I don’t like people and have no interest in knowing anything about them. If you are me, you should know I haven’t any interest in you or why you are here. So I want you to leave immediately, for I must go home.”

“Listen to me!”

“Why?”

“Because!  I’m from the future!  I’ve been sent back to warn you of a great disaster that will occur to our planet due to your son!” Melbourne “2” slumps in his seat and tries to catch his breath.

“Well, there you go.  You’ve got the wrong “me.” I don’t have a wife and never will. That’s reason number one. If I don’t have a wife, I have no son. That’s reason number two. I’ve already explained the third reason, but I will repeat it. I don’t like people, and a wife and child are people. So, there you are. Now get out.”

“You’re wrong, you’re wrong! Just because you don’t have a wife now doesn’t mean you won’t ever have one! I live in an alternate universe where everything is exactly the same as here but two hundred years ahead. I couldn’t stop my son because I was unaware of his involvement with a terrorist cult. He went on to upset the climate and caused disaster for the planet. So when we learned of your universe, it was decided I would be sent through a wormhole to warn you of this disaster and try to convince you to stop your son so it wouldn’t happen in my universe, see?” Melbourne”1” pauses. He looks up towards the top of the windshield and scans it deep in thought. Then protruding his bottom lip, he shakes his head and says, “I’ll never have a son. Problem solved.”

“NO!” Melbourne “2” shouts. You can’t say you’ll never have a son when history has proven you did. It’s a matter of Fate! Do you know the definition of Fate? “Fate is the development of events beyond a person’s control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power.” That means that at some point, you will have a son.

“Hmmm. A supernatural power. Now stay with me for a minute "other" me and see if you can follow my thinking on this. A supernatural power that seems to have the ability to override our will has its own influence. Now, some people here believe in a creator god. This God gave man a free choice to choose as he wishes. If Fate can control the will and make a person accept what is happening to them, then who does this influence belong to, God or Satan? In either case, it doesn’t sound like I’m the one you should be talking to because I have no choice. You’d better get in touch with God or the other guy, you know who.”

Melbourne “2” pales and his mouth slowly drops open.

“By the way, “me,” there’s something else your historians need to check. I had a vasectomy years ago, so no son, not now, not ever. So, crawl back into your little wormhole, return to your world, and figure out a different excuse for what went wrong. I have to get home to Master Meow. He is waiting for his dinner. And get out of my car, you dumb ass!”